


Rockstar

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: F/M, TGWTG Big House AU, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-20
Updated: 2011-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-23 21:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe is convinced that he's now reached rockstar level of fame. Far be it from Roses to dissuade him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rockstar

It was a hot and muggy day (which is a completely different thing from a dark and stormy night), and all the world wanted to do was be in the air conditioning and not move. Anyone with any sense, at any rate.

Which was obviously why Angry Joe was bouncing around his room like a pinball, while Roses lay sprawled out on his bed, two thirds asleep and listening to him babble on about the thing he’d gone to. She honestly didn’t care, but the air conditioning in her room was on the fritz, while Joe’s was working. Todd and Paw had gone off to the kitchen, but Roses was feeling to sleepy to do that. So she sprawled out on Joe’s bed, half-listening to him yatter, well aware that her skirt was riding up around her thighs and not particularly caring. After all, she knew that he messed around with Paw, and she was dating Paw, so they kinda ended up being connected. At least to the point that he didn’t mind her crashing on his bed in a heat wave.

“I’m getting to fuckin’ rock star level, I swear!” Joe was bouncing around, and Roses nodded drowsily, flat on her back with her hands across her stomach, vaguely aware of the way her shirt was riding up, the straps of the flimsy tank top sliding down her arms. She didn’t care. Maybe she’d end up fucking Joe. At that moment, all she cared about was the cool air blowing across her (making her skin goosebump and her nipples pebble) and the way the muscles in her back were slowly unclenching.

“Yeah?” Roses enquired, mainly to be polite, resisting the urge to roll onto her belly.

“Yeah!” Joe sat on the edge of the bed, fluttering a finger between two fingers frantically, like he did everything else. “This chick let me sign her stomach!”

Roses giggled and stretched, arching her back, making her shirt ride up over her navel and pulling her t-shirt tighter against her breasts. She knew Joe was staring. She didn’t care. “So that means you’re a rockstar now, huh? What’re you gonna sign next?”

Joe was grinning, his face full of trouble. He clicked his pen open and leaned over her. Roses looked at him drowsily over the frames of her glasses and grinned at him. She saw where this was going. She didn’t mind.

The pen tickled when he began to write across her shoulder. She glanced over, trying to see what he was writing, but the angle was all wrong.

“What’re you writing?” She squirmed, feeling her skin tingle from the stimulation - combination of her own sweat and the air conditioning left all of her nerves on edge, hypersensitive.

“’Joe was here’,” said Joe, and Roses rolled her eyes.

“You can be more creative than that,” she scolded.

“There’s only so much room on your shoulder,” Joe pointed out, and there was a familiar maniacal gleam in his eye. Roses had seen it before, usually right before he either grabbed Paw or did something really, really stupid (like the thing with the toaster). Because of the heat, he wasn’t wearing his jacket, and Roses had to admit, his arms were… quite nice looking.

“So don’t just write on my shoulder?” She grinned at him cheekily, her eyebrows going up.

His went up as well, and he grinned. He clicked the pen and leaned over her, putting one hand on her chest, between her birds. “I do love a blank canvas….”

Roses rolled her eyes, squirming to get more comfortable with him practically looming over her. “Not exactly blank,” she pointed out, indicating her tattoos in a vague sort of way.

“Blank-ish.” Joe made a thinking face and leaned forward, beginning to carefully write around her birds, although what he was writing she couldn’t tell. She was hyperaware of how close he was to her breasts, and how big his hands felt against her. It took effort not to squirm too much, from the ticklishness and from how… twitchy her whole body felt. Maybe it was the drastic temperature change - going from sweating so much your hair was pasted to your head to cold air probably knocked things a bit outta whack.

“So… what are you writing?” Roses put her hand on the back of Joe’s neck, feeling the short, bristly hairs and the sweat-slippery skin.

“’twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe….” Joe’s expression was thoughtful as he carefully scratched it out.

“Didn’t see you as the literary type,” Roses said, blushing when he gave her a slightly sardonic look.

“’cause I’m nothin’ but video games and bad pickup lines, right?” He carefully dotted a period, then began to draw something between her birds. It felt like an infinity sign.

“Well, uh, I didn’t say that,” Roses mumbled, looking embarrassed. She petted his hair to distract herself - it was softer than usual, slightly limp from the humidity, ungelled.

“Yeah, but you were thinking it.” Joe shrugged and grinned naturedly. “I don’t hold it against y’all, don’t worry.” He pushed the neck of her tank top down and drew a little heart between her breasts. Roses wasn’t wearing a bra - it was too hot, and she honestly didn’t care.

“I’m sorry,” Roses said, still petting his hair. She smiled at the way he nuzzled into her wrist, kissing the tattoo on the inside of it, then going back to doodling, still pushing her shirt down.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joe said, and he leaned forward, pressing a nervous kiss to her collarbone. His mustache was ticklish.

Roses lay back on the pillow and tried to relax. It was a bit odd, being so… passive, but at the same time, it was hot, even with the air conditioning, and Joe seemed to be enjoying himself. Where was the harm, right? She was enjoying herself well enough.

Joe was sitting on her thighs now, the denim of his jeans rough against her bare thighs. Her skirt was hiked up at this point, almost to the point of obscenity, although really, when someone is sitting on you and drawing in the space between your breasts, you’ve gone past the point of obscenity. Joe was drawing hearts between her breasts, tiny little valentine hearts, leaning forward with an expression of deep concentration, his breath warm and cinnamon flavored on her face.

When Joe scooted back, Roses felt the first flutter of nerves in her belly, which matched up with the first scratch of the pen as Joe pushed her tank top up, beginning to sketch out… something.

“What are you drawing?” Roses attempted to look down her body, but she couldn’t make it out, between the awkward angle and the way her shirt was bunching up, covering her breasts, but just barely.

“A tree,” Joe said, and Roses could feel the long strokes as he drew the trunk, the roots starting at the waistband of her skirt and the branches moving up between her breasts, tangling with the hearts. She felt his hands slipping in the sweat, and she tried not to squirm - the pull and scratch of the pen was almost painful - almost. She bit her lip, her eyes squeezing shut, and she felt the way her nipples were tightening and her nerves were practically singing. It was taking effort not to moan.

When Joe was finished with his tree (at least, Roses presumed he was finished with it), he moved further down, until he was sitting between her ankles. He began to write on her leg, and Roses squirmed, her toes curling - Paw must’ve told him how she hated having her feet touched. She curled her toes against his knee, getting up on her elbows to see what he was drawing.

It looked like a river. A long series of flowing lines, going up along her leg, ending at her thigh. He was doing the same thing on the other leg, and Roses could feel her face heating up, almost flaming in the air conditioned room. She was aroused, aroused enough that she could feel the wetness trickle out of her and stain her panties. Which meant that Joe, from his vantage point, would see it and probably smell it. Still, they’d gotten this far; why be embarrassed. So she gaped her thighs open a bit wider (to give Joe more room to draw, of course) and looked down between her breasts, smiling at him, almost shyly.

Joe began sketching another river along her inner thigh, and he was almost dead quiet, a change from his usual frantic self. He was sketching stars now - she could feel the strokes of his pen against her skin, until it was brushing against the elastic of the leg of her panties. He glanced up at her, looking slightly embarrassed. “Is it okay if I, uh….”

“Yeah,” Roses mumbled, and made to hook her fingers under the elastic. She stopped when Joe put his hands on top of hers, pressing them flat.

“I’ll do it,” he said, although he didn’t begin to take her panties off. Instead, he pressed the pen against her slit, his thumb against her clit, making her hiss between her teeth and rock her hips forward. She was already wet, and the thin fabric of her panties clung to her skin, slimy and cold and unpleasant in a pleasant kind of way.

“W-what’re you going to do with that pen?” Roses’ hips rocked up as Joe circled her clit with his thumb, the pen pressing down on her, making her squirm, her toes curling against the bedspread, which was sticking to the backs of her thighs with sweat.

“Well… I was thinkin’ of puttin’ it in you,” Joe said, his voice ragged. “I mean, if you want me to.”

Roses squirmed. “Could you maybe use your fingers instead?” She was thinking of the sharp point of the pen, and how… uncomfortable that could be.

“Sure,” Joe said, and he pulled himself further upright, pushing her shirt off of her breasts and leaning forward to kiss them, no doubt tasting ink as he mouthed the hearts he had drawn there. He was clumsy as he pulled her panties down, but it was only to be expected - he wasn’t looking at what he was doing. Still, eventually they were down, and Roses kicked them off.

Roses squirmed, arching her back and spreading her legs wider. She was giggling as he stroked along the lips of her pussy with his fingers, because he was beginning to doodle across her breasts as well, and _that_ was ticklish. It wasn’t until his fingers slid into her and he began to draw spirals around her nipples that it became less ticklish and more sexy. She began to moan as he patiently thrust his fingers into her, drawing spirals and hearts on her breasts. Truth be told, the fingers inside of her were a bit clumsy, but it made sense - he was drawing with his dominant hand, after all.

Joe seemed to be enjoying himself - he watched her face, then looked down at the doodles on her chest, which were no doubt smeared with sweat. She was sweating, sweating a great deal, dripping between her breasts and down her back, pasting her hair to her face. She didn’t care. She was concentrating completely on the biting scratch of the pen on her breasts and the pushing, thrusting of Joe’s fingers, sending her closer and closer to orgasm with each movement, each rotation of his thumb over her clit.

Roses gasped when she came, her whole body going stiff as a board, her muscles clenching and squeezing Joe’s fingers. She heard him drop the pen over the side of the bed, heard it clatter on the floor. She felt the tickle of Joe’s mustache as he kissed along her neck, which was thankfully free of drawings, and she looked at him through misted glasses, still breathing heavily.

Joe smiled down at her crookedly, kissing her on the forehead. She could feel his erection through his jeans, pressed against her thigh. He didn’t seem bothered by it, at least at the moment. “You better not ever take a shower,” he told her.

“Hm?” Roses blinked at him, her head still a bit foggy as the aftershocks made her twitch pleasantly.

“Gen-u-ine Angry Joe autograph,” he said, smirking. “Gotta be worth a fortune!”

Roses rolled her eyes.


End file.
